Tango Nocturne

[The International]

Vespasian stood in the center of the room in what seemed to be a battle stance. His right knee was bent supporting the majority of his body weight, and his left toe was pointed in the direction of focus. His left arm, draped in black, ended with a white knuckled fist almost fully extended and parallel to its respective toe, and his right arm wrapped around almost as if to guard his chest. His eyes, filled with intensity, were aimed in a fatal stare beyond his fist. This looked very much like a warrior’s battle stance, but this was something most warriors hadn’t the heart to take on. This was a dance floor, and Vespasian was taking on a woman on her battlefield. The shape he took on would have easily been mistaken for a battle stance had it not been for the woman locked in his arms.

The strings of a vast orchestra sounded off from behind the silver curtain of cigar smoke, signaling Vespasian to take off as they dramatically slid up and down the musical scale. And so he did, launching into a cheetah like sprint and taking his partner with him. He abruptly stopped just in front of a current of dancers and lunged backwards, sending his partners hips into him and causing her to arch her back. The baseline of the music was initiated by a cello, which, with its stable rhythm and melodramatic tone, requested that Vespasian conform just a little bit more. He complied by joining the current of dancers moving counterclockwise around the room, but that was his final compromise.

This wasn’t just any dance. Most dances adopted positive signature emotions such as happiness, elegance, and romance. This was the dance of passion, intensity, love and hate all conveniently wrapped up in a fatally beautiful package. Bouncy steps and smiling faces weren’t allowed. Only drama befitting the most heart wrenching tragic romances.

“Tone it down a bit, V.” Amandine Milla broke character and spoke into his ear as they continued to float along the line of dance. “It’s hard to speak when I have to focus on following you.”

“So be it. Basic maneuvers only.” Vespasian said with a scowl on his face. After what was considered a cover date it was time for Amandine to reveal her true intentions for meeting him. “I’m listening.”

“Wardell Chance has gone missing. It’s been about a week since anyone’s seen him.” Amandine paused waiting for a reaction. She scanned Vespasian’s face with a set of jade eyes. His face remained unchanged, and focused on the dance. “Do you know who he…”

“I’m listening like I said, and I know who he is.” Wardell Chance was one of the top advisors in the Empire, and met with the Viceroys on a weekly basis. “I just thought you might appreciate it if I didn’t ram you into another couple. Just keep talking.”

“Well that’s just it, and it’s a bit of a quagmire. I’ve got no leads, no evidence, and everyone’s a suspect because everyone secretly hates him.” They suddenly stopped at an angle as she drew fans on the floor with her passion red heels. “I wouldn’t care much for finding him, but he’s taken his son with him and his wife is concerned. He was allegedly a very physical man so she’s scared for him.”

“And you need me to locate him.” They resumed their gait as a single obsidian creature stalking along the outside edge of the dance floor like a cat. “I’m going to need to speak to his wife.”

“Done. Aquila Chance is the woman sitting near the open window. She doesn’t like cigar smoke. I’ve also hired someone to for assistance and protection. He should be here shortly.” Vespasian broke his hold and sent Amandine out in a spin, which ended in the two of them standing side by side. She looked at him quizzically from behind an amber veil of tossed hair, obviously disappointed that he ended their dance before the song was completed. Just as well though. He had run out of ideas, and he had to smirk at her disappointment. She continued as she shrugged her shoulders and started for the table where Aquila waited. “He’s a powerful man.”

That was her justification for issuing protection, and Vespasian could understand that. With a powerful man like Wardell only one of three things could have happened. He was killed, in which case his killers wouldn’t want to be found out, he was kidnapped, in which case his captors would want to keep him from being freed, or he went into hiding, in which case he wouldn’t want anyone to find him. Vespasian welcomed protection.

The two followed the makeshift oak labyrinth of tables and chairs until they arrived at a table where a lone woman sat downing a glass of red wine. She stood as Amandine and Vespasian approached, and it was all too obvious that she had been expressing grief. Her eyes, normally that of a sapphire, were almost as red as the wine she was just inhaling. She extended a hand and exuded a fake smile as she looked down at Vespasian. “You two looked exceptional out there. Why did you stop?”

“I started telling him about your situation and he lost all desire to dance.” Amandine said as she took her seat. “There was no use in dancing any longer. Your situation became his situation, and the dance wasn’t important anymore.”

“Not true.” Vespasian said as he took a seat and confiscated the bottle of wine in the middle of the table for his own use. “I have attention issues.”

“Well I hope you can keep your eyes on the goal for this assignment, Mr. V.” Aquila tilted her head as if to take offense, not to the fact that Vespasian admitted to attention issues, not to the fact that he had confiscated her bottle of wine, but to the fact that he wouldn’t reveal his real name.

“Please call me V. It’s just V and it’s for your own protection.” Vespasian said as he poured himself a glass of wine. It poured slowly like blood but was translucent like a ruby; two indications of a sweet desert wine. “I’d like as much information on your husband as possible, Mrs. Chance.”

“Miss Carrion.” Aquila said with an angry sniffle. She sat down in the seat closest to the window and tilted her head to the left. She didn’t like the hot cigar smoke of the social club, so she took every chance she could to take in the cool nighttime air. “This is the last straw. Wardell was a good man until he began working at the palace. He spent less and less time with his son and I and the time he did spend became tenser by the day. One day it got physical, and the violence kept escalating from there. Finally last week he went to work and never came back.”

“I can assure you he never showed up at the palace that day…” Amandine said.

“I don’t care if he’s decided to leave!” Aquila suppressed an irate scream. “I only care about my son. I just need to know that he’s okay. No… I’m lying. I want him safe with me. His last whereabouts are his one of his properties no more than a few blocks from here. Maybe that’s where you should look first.”

[Taskmienster]

Taskmienster;

You have been requested for a mission in Corone. Information will be provided by those involved when you arrive at the location, which is in a Manor of one of the Viceroys of Radasanth. You will be looking for one called V and the woman with him, she is the one who has hired you… good luck!

~Amandine


Colin tapped the thin screen of his phone and pushed it into his back pocket. It was not often that he was literally summoned to Althanas. What sick ploy was being played he was not sure, since the only time he went on Althanas at work was to collect data instead of play. If it was a private message sent by an admin to lure him onto the site because they knew where he had last logged out, it was a trap. If it was really sent by another person asking for his aide, it was a concern. He did not want the people on the server to know him so well. It seemed the more he did in the virtual reality game the more people came to know him though, a fact that drew more eyes towards him both good and bad.

“To go or not,” he pondered as he tapped lazily at the transparent keyboard in front of him. A collection of codes and intricate patterns were all he had, hundreds of them. The project was coming along very slowly, as remembering every intricate code that was unique to Althanas was something altogether new to Colin. Those that he could remember he typed out as soon as he left the world, promising to make notes later on what each one did. Procrastination was a wretched disease that continued to plague him though. “So much work to get done, but it is technically my job…”

Looking around his office he continued to weigh the pros and cons of entering Althanas. If it was part of the administration luring him in, why should he care anyway? He had bested one of the staff members in Scara Brae, had numerous run-ins with others. His character on the server, Ethan “Lars” Calhoun was adept at fighting for survival. He had multiple ways to decode and recode the server, making him quickly become known for his ‘manipulation of reality’. It would not be too difficult to continue doing as he always had, in the long run it would probably be best if the message was one from a staff member. Future traps could be easily avoided by learning firsthand what they looked like.

“Working hard, or hardly working?” The stupid phrase was accompanied by a giggle. Colin tapped at the screen a couple times before turning to the voice; already knowing who it belonged to. The slim girl was staring at him with a half-cocked smile on her face. She adjusted her thin framed glasses and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Brittany was always happy it seemed, then again dating one of the highest paid programmers of the company had its perks. “What are you up to silly? You’ve been staring at that screen since I walked up.”

“How long have you been standing there? Oh, never mind it’s not important.” He stood from his desk and held her hand in his, squeezing it gently as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I got a PM from someone on Althy, asking me to join in on some quest thing. Not sure if it’s an admin fuckin’ with me or an actual person.”

Her thin lipped smile turned into a grimace as she heard the mention of the staff members. They had been bothering him quite a bit as of late, and she could see the stress from it growing daily. Her hand tightened and she gave him a hug. Colin held her close, staring at the rest of the office without a care for what they thought. “I guess I’m going to go,” he continued as he let go of her and started walking slowly towards the virtual reality ‘pods’. “I’ve got nothing better to do, there’s still a lot of hours to dick around in till we’re done today, and if it’s a staff member I’ll just have Ethan kill him like he did the last one.”

“Alright…” mention of killing people, despite it being a silly game, made Brit uncomfortable. Her boyfriend had been killing a lot of people lately, in the Citadel and some other place called the Pagoda. He had shown that the mental state of the real person behind the computer simulation was, and always would be, much stronger than the game’s attempt at reality. However, she also had seen lately that he was enjoying the fights he took up far too much. “I guess that’s best, babe. Just be careful and don’t forget that it’s Friday, we have plenty of stuff planned with our friends tonight and all day tomorrow.”

“I’ll remember; I won’t be gone all night.” Colin smiled and gave her a reassuring peck on her cheek before letting go of her hand and lying down in the VR-pod.


~*~

The room was filled with the elite of Corone; the Empire’s more frivolous and wealthy. They were engaged in dances, casual flirting, and what looked like open-aired conspiring. They were the people that did not have to get their hands dirty in the civil war that raged across their large island, all the people that he saw were important minds behind the revolutionary machine that was the Corone Empire. Ethan sighed as he moved away from the warm glow of the window. So much intrigue was asking to spark if he entered, any number of the aristocrats could potentially be staff members of the server just waiting for him.

He moved his hands and adjusted his belt, making sure the large buckle with the skulls was properly in place. Tight denim pants, boot cut girls jeans, were hanging just a little low on his hips. His white, v-neck shirt was tucked in just by the belt buckle as not to obstruct anyone’s view of the weighted metal symbol. Ethan tugged at his unzipped leather jacket and adjusted the wayward white fur that lined it, making sure that his image would be well known when he finally decided to enter. There was far more to the movements though, as the weapons that he was known for rested up either sleeve of the jacket and waited for their release at a seconds notice. If everything wasn’t in place, something could go wrong, and he knew nothing could go wrong once he stepped into the gala.

Doors of heavy oak swung aside as he entered, the guard watching them having been pleasantly surprised by the invitation in the uniquely dressed man’s hand. It was signed and delivered just like any others, though only Lars knew that it was little more than a computer programmed fake. He ignored the stares of those that sat at tables lining the open dancing floor. The only thing on his mind was finding the one named V and the woman with him, who he assumed was named Amandine. No description of either, no way to find them visually at all was given to the hacker. He sighed instead of asking around, no doubts that the pompous proprietors of Corone would belittle him or simply ignore him.

With a casual gait he began to wander, lifting a beautiful crystal glass filled with champagne of some sort from a passing tray. If they had summoned him, ‘hired him’ to be more in line with the way Althanas worked, they would be able to find him the more visible he was.

[The International]

“What’s your son’s name, Miss Carrion?” Vespasian said as he tilted his head back and took a sip of the wine. He was right. It was a sweet wine, most likely from Alerar.

“His name is Ove. He’s twelve.” Aquila dropped her head as she twisted her cloth napkin. It ended up looking like a bowtie when she was done with it. “There isn’t one word to describe him. He’s such a dynamic young man. I won’t be modest. I deserve the majority of the credit for that. What about you? Does everyone call you V.”

“As you may already have guessed, it’s just an alias.” The young operative said as he leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “I’ll use any letter in the alphabet, any number you may think of. It’s to protect people like you, my clients, and people like Amandine, my handler. I don’t always perform such heroic deeds as finding a missing child.”

“I can accept that.” A set of dimples emerged on Aquila’s cheeks. This was probably the first time she’d genuinely smiled in a week. “So are you saying you can find my boy?”

Vespasian mirrored that smile. “I’m saying I’ll do my best, and I’ll start where he was last seen. You said his last location was a few blocks from here. I’m guessing it’s a townhome?”

“It is. Wardell loves that place. Maybe he’ll stop by there or something.”

Vespasian chuckled. “Now Aquila, you’re too smart of a woman to honestly believe such a simple thing as that. I’ll chalk that up to the dire situation at hand. Write down the mailing address of that townhome on this napkin and I’ll get to work as soon as my protection arrives.”

“You work at night, V?” Aquila said as she borrowed Amandine’s ink pen. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s actually a little safer. Do you have a key to the residence?”

“No. He never trusted me with one, but from what I heard he left in haste, and he’s an absent minded man. It’s likely he left a door or window open.” Aquila suddenly straightened up and tilted her head in curiosity as her eyes moved beyond Vespasian. “Now that’s an unusual character, but then again we are in Radasanth.”

“Oh.” Amandine stood up and scanned the area behind Vespasian, and raised her hand to signal him over. “That’s our support.”

Vespasian wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. Just behind Aquila sat a young woman with emerald eyes and straight orchard hair. Her attire was that of the Coronian high class, which allowed her to blend in with her surroundings, and up until now her back had been turned. Now she was standing up with her party to make exit and she was making eye contact with Vespasian. It was his sister, Ludivine Villeneuve. She wasn’t in danger or else she would have given the appropriate signal, but as she stood she exposed a white handkerchief. He had two days to finish things in Corone before his family left for Alerar with or without him. That was all the more reason to get started on this as soon as possible.

Vespasian stood up with Amandine to greet his assistance. When he turned around his eyes grew wide. Aquila was right. They were in Radasanth.

[Taskmienster]

The sips were slow, deliberate, and with just enough panache to keep the hacker from looking completely out of place. The glass was smooth to the touch, the golden alcohol even softer on the palette as it slowly slipped down his throat. He gracefully passed multiple tables, his empty hand touching the softest silks he had ever felt. Scents of roast gently rose and fell as the movement of the crowd swirled the delicate and savory touch of pristinely prepared foods. A flavor that was something more delicate than just a whiff, it was something that could actually be experienced alongside the tangible tang of champagne. It was good to be a man with un-paramount powers in a world so oblivious to him.

Eyes shifted to him as he passed. They watched his every movement, from his lackluster stride to his unique style of clothing. Ethan locked eyes with the aristocracy, their heads turning and their lips letting loose the inevitable babble that belittled the unknown. His every thoughtless touch of fingers to silk was analyzed, his sips taken into account as he passed. The man shook his head and continued through the world that was something unknown, possibly dangerous, and had a taint of flamboyance that was something altogether felt in all the wrong ways.

“A place so distraught with decadence,” the hacker thought as he moved towards no particular point of interest. Anyone present could have been the informer; anyone present could have potentially been one of the countless members of the Althanas staff waiting for their chance to strike. His thoughts were fleeting and hard to grasp, but the aura of perfected debauchery was slowly seeping its way into his thoughts and movements. “Fucking hypocrites. They live in such luxury, the people they so thoughtlessly control are in the midst of a rebellion and the civil war and yet they fund this lavish bullshit.”

As if thought had brought him to a point where the pixilated world that he had come to know as Althanas was little more than a dream he wandered. His eyes scanned the room, but no concern or caution was behind them. The necessity of finding the informant was nearly lost in his sudden anti-hero persona that had so effortlessly consumed him. A raised hand, waving vigorously in his direction almost went unnoticed.

“Ah,” he muttered as he started towards the woman who was hopefully the one called Amandine. She was a slight woman, dressed in attire that befitted the passionate ballroom setting. A mature beauty enwrapped her visage, drawing just enough attention to keep her from appearing as an outsider – a concern that Lars was not nearly engaged with – but not enough to bring the wandering eyes of the upper class upon her too often. “Hello there love, I assume you’re Amandine? And you must be called ‘V’… the one I’m supporting.”

The man was also one that looked as if he also fit into the setting as well as the one who had contacted him. Not an outstanding man, not even one that looked like anything more than a common wealthy bureaucrat. Unimpressed, though not going to be rude, Ethan nodded to the two of them and then bowed slightly for the woman who had hired him. His name could eventually become synonymous with his deeds, good or bad, but either way he assumed it would be best to show a pleasant face and offer his real name. An alias so late in the game was a waste of time, and his memory was one that would offer no help with all the self-appointed names and titles. “The name is Ethan Calhoun, though most call me Lars for short. Whatever you prefer is what I would prefer.”

[The International]

Ethan Calhoun was a tactical liability to say the least. His hair was a briar patch made of giant black and white thorns that pointed towards the sky, and his body was draped in unorthodox fabrics. Vespasian had to bite his own bottom lip at the sight of Ethan's piercing. What made the man even more conspicuous was the way he carried himself with an unapologetic pride. He reminded Vespasian of the peacocks of Dheathain with their tacky appendages. Vespasian wasn't going to complain though. Things could have been worse.

“Ethan Calhoun...” Vespasian said as he held up two hands with a smile. “Lars. I fail to see the connection.”

“And here we have a proper demonstration of your attention issues, V. We have an adviser and his son missing and you're more worried about etymology.” Amandine said with her hands on her hips.

“I'm just trying to make conversation with my partner.” Vespasian said as he picked up the napkin with the address on it. He then turned to Ethan. “I'd much rather call you Cal. I'm going to call you Cal.”

“I'm glad you're taking this situation so seriously, Mr. V.” Aquila's chair jumped back at her sudden rising.

“I apologize, Miss Carrion. I didn't mean to belittle your situation. An associate of mine calls what I'm doing here an emotional defense mechanism. Sometimes people unconsciously infuse humor into a situation to lift the weight off their hearts and better perform their functions.” A moment of awkward silence arose. Vespasian was ashamed of himself. He was fist introduced to Aquila as a source of faith and reassurance. Now she was probably wondering what she had spent her money on. He'd better move before buyer's remorse kicked in. “We'll be off now.”

“Before you leave I need to warn you.” Amandine said as she stepped in closer. “Property rights dictate that no one but the owner can enter the townhome, and the only authorities able to enter are caught up in bureaucratic red tape. Anyone found entering this place will be apprehended for trespassing.”

“Don't get caught. I get it.” That was why Amandine hired Vespasian, to break the laws a respectable member of the Empire couldn't. “However, we are entering a townhome, which is connected on three sides to other buildings and therefore has no back door or side window. Don't worry. We won't tell them who we're working for if we do get caught.”

“Hell, Amandine might not even be my real name.” The handler said with a devious smile.

“No offense, honey, but you're not smart enough to do that.” Vespasian didn't give Amandine the opportunity to respond as he immediately turned and headed for the exit.

[Taskmienster]

This man was nothing like the hacker had seen before; he had a personality. It was one that threw off the man who stood out, physically at least. Ethan was a quirky character that was anything but average. His attire threw off most, and those that it didn’t make take a second glance were those that were dressed in an even stranger style. An Althanas denizen would see him as either a threat or a mistake waiting to happen, he saw everyone else in the same light. He who stood out the most was normally the one that was wearing the most awkward apparel, a face harder to identify and change. Clothing could be changed, a face could not.

Lars, or Cal as this ‘V’ person wanted to call him, stepped away from the table when the older woman shot up. He rubbed his arms and let the cool faux-leather jacket comfort him from the awkwardness that was embracing him. Eyes that had long since passed to other more pressing matters were returned to Lars, despite him not being at fault for the outburst. Her tone was drawn and saddened, apparently the person that he had come to help. Neither the handler, Ethan’s partner, nor the woman he had come to help seemed to pay much attention to him. He was left to the side, watching and waiting for the party to get on the way.

“If you two are finished with this lovely little banter…” Ethan cleared his throat and clenched the back of the chair before him. His eyes wandered to the woman who stood opposite him, barely holding back the tears that glistened at the edges of her eyes. Miss Carrion let her white laced gloves slide across her eyes and absorbed the tears before they fell. She sniffed the improper running nose and dropped back to her chair. Her stature and posture was like a limp reed, slouching and cheerless.

Ethan shook his head slowly and looked at the other two, leaning in close with a grin as he turned the small piercing that hooked through his lip. It was the only visible one left, the tongue ring having long since been removed for sake of ease. “I’d prefer if you called me Lars, but if you’ve gotta go with Cal just keep it consistent. Too many changes and I straight up won’t remember what name to go by, nor respond to you at all.”

“You have a strange style of speech,” Miss Carrion commented, eliciting a smile from the hacker and a nod in her direction.

“That I do, but it just fits, ya know?” He shrugged and turned back to V and his handler and continued in a lowered tone. “No worries about the guard and entrance love; I know how to get into places without being seen. Hell, if it’s necessary removing those looking is just as easy really. We just need to get there, and I’ll get us in. Let him worry about… well, I’m not actually sure what exactly a dandy is good for. Can you fight? Doesn’t matter if you can or can’t I suppose, but it’d be nice.”

The hacker sighed and finished the half-empty glass of champagne. The taste was terrible, but it was free alcohol. The eloquent drink was not his style, but it was something at least. “We know where the place is, what’s going on, now we just need to get going right? Let’s head out as soon as we can.”

[The International]

Vespasian nodded his head with a smile. “A man of purpose. I can appreciate that.”

As soon as the two makeshift detectives stepped across the threshold into the Radasanthian night Vespasian could feel the cool nighttime air. The assortment of cigar scents such as Aleraran Herb, Akashiman Tabacco, or even Dheathain Cocoa was replaced with the natural saltines of the Niema River. Vespasian inhaled deeply allowing his chest to expand like a balloon, and cracked his mouth open for a slow exhale. He wanted to enjoy the fresh air before it lost its novelty. The young spy looked back as he and Cal made distance from the venue and noticed that a plume of smoke towered above the building. It joined several others in a backdrop of crème colored lights and lamps for many parts of Radasanth were nocturnal.

In a matter of minutes they were walking along a terraced housing complex of seemingly epic proportion. The carmine brick monolith meandered endlessly to the horizon as it was escorted by a monotonous line of equidistant street lamps. Vespasian went down his checklist of environmental profiling. Since both ends of the street were terraced housing there were no allies for them to escape into or anyone else to ambush from. Anyone intending on attacking them would have to approach from directly behind, in front or from one of the intersecting streets, which occurred at least every three hundred yards. The windows of most of the residences were not lit, meaning the occupants were either sleeping or away, and the streets were vacant, give or take a carriage and a handful of pedestrians.

“Here we are.” Vespasian was correct in his original assumption. The home of Wardell Chance had no back or side to it. It was the third residence in a row of ten, which was good because he and Cal would have a relatively short distance to travel for retreat to an intersecting street if need be. Chance must have been a meager fellow when it came to his finances, for most advisers to the Empire and even those who advised the former Republic had enough money to afford a townhome larger and more extravagant than this one. It was something Vespasian had been wondering about even as they first entered the neighborhood. “Two stories and what looks to be from the outside no more than twelve hundred square feet is not an Imperial adviser's home.”

“Let's first check to see if the place is clear then we'll investigate. We want to avoid touching anything but the lamps for light. Even the placement of a household object can tell us something about its owner.” The home was preceded by a small flight of gray stone stairs, which were framed by a pair of black wrought iron railings. Vespasian took two steps up then paused when he saw that the door was cracked open. He turned to Calhoun and invited him to enter first. “I'll let you do your job.”

[Taskmienster]

No breeze filtered through the urban jungle, houses obstructing its passage. The air outside of the open ballroom was alleviating in its purity. The thick, humid feel of the gathering place of the nobles was something that had become second nature as soon as the hacker had entered. When he walked outside, following V, he felt the calm security of the light air and the freedom from the stuffy environment. As if to compensate, he removed a cigarette and took a quick puff. Nicotine flooded his lungs, filling his body with the addicting substance that he craved in real life as much as he did in the fabricated reality of Althanas.

“Let him say something,” Lars thought as he let the drag out slowly and watched the wafting smoke dwindle in the clean air. If there was one thing the hacker had learned over time, in any circumstance it was best to remain either the most obvious person or do anything that could keep eyes from staying on him for too long. A cig at night, in the hands of a man dressed strangely just out for a stroll would look less important than two men lurking.

Ethan tapped the light-posts as he walked at a short distance behind his companion, counting them as did so. Just one of his many quirks, but it helped to pass the time and allowed him to concentrate. His eyes were not focused on the technical issues that surrounded him; no thought of any imminent threat came to mind. Nonchalantly he strolled, one hand tapping the posts every so often, the other tapping the filter of the cigarette to rid it of ash. Had an armed guard arrived, or thieves suddenly appeared from the shadows, or any other such event the hacker was ready though. Never had his calm and collected demeanor been the causes of any self-security breakdowns, his daggers were always ready for use.

The houses were not small shacks like what one could find on the opposite side of Radasanth, denizens huddled together in two room dwellings. These people, these aristocratic, brown-nosing men and women had worked hard at sucking up to the right leaders to get the dwellings that they called their own. Each house was not a mansion, but the second and sometimes third stories were easily identified as upper echelon prestige. It would be no problem breaking into something so openly offered to the world, Lars had no doubt about that.

“That’s for sure, seems he’s underpaid or has his interests in something else. Lucrative business to attend to that absorbs a shit ton of money, maybe some late night gambling or other types of vices to see to?” Ethan laughed as he crunched the cigarette under the hell of his black converses. It was only half finished, but he had to get to work and carrying around a small red dot around his face was hardly an advantageous way to remain hidden in darkness. “Let’s get in there and find out what’s going on.”

He pushed the door aside and peered around the corner, silently taking in what he could of the insides of the Chance residence. A long corridor was all he saw, no doors or passage leading off of it for at least forty feet. The wooden floors were covered with long rugs elegantly stitched and produced, in the darkness he could barely see the designs but assumed them to be of a Fallien nature. A couple small tables lined the walls, one with a vase and fresh flowers on it, the other empty. Nothing inspiring came to sight, it was at the very least stylish in its simplicity. His hand pushed aside the door slowly as he made way for his body and his partner to follow through.

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Calhoun whispered over his shoulder before slowly making his way a little further into the corridor.

[The International]

Vespasian could appreciate level headed sense of awareness Cal possessed in this situation. He didn't have to tell the flamboyantly dressed fiend to be natural or to stay casual. If anyone was after them in route to the Chance residence there was no need to attempt to hide. Said pursuer would have already had them in sight. Others would have retreated to the shadows, which there weren't enough of to begin with, and that would have brought unwanted attention from civilians. Hiding in plain sight by having nothing to hide was the best course of action to take, and Cal did that well. He enjoyed a cigaret, while he and Vespasian took a casual walk down the street. The spy had a feeling he was going to have a relatively easy time working with this man, despite his first impression.

Before them stood a wall of darkness that silently warned them both to stay out, but Vespasian chose to ignore that warning. He stepped over the threshold of the door to hear his boots make contact with the soft carpet. He paused for a moment and his forehead cringed in concentration. If only he could see himself in the mirror right now with that ugly constipated look on his face. Unfortunately it was a side affect of the concentration he needed to create the glowing airborne morsel that floated by his side. It was no brighter than a candle, but it sufficed as it satiated the next ten feet in a dim yellow glow.

“Use any matches you have left to light up the nearest lamp.” Vespasioan pointed down the corridor. “I think I see one along the wall there.”

Within a few moments the Chance residence was lit. It was not the home of wealthy advisor. Everything was minimalistic. The furniture was plain, its wooden structures gray and without life. The dining room was their biggest clue as to what became of Warden and his son. The barren chamber had a small brick fireplace, above which was a picture of father and son. In he center of the room was a small circular wooden table more befitting a café, with two chairs, and two partially finished bowls of oatmeal. “That’s not what someone of his status eats, and the fact that they aren’t finished confirms Aquila’s assumption. They did in fact leave in haste.”

Whether he left out of contempt or fear would depend on what they would find in the bedroom, which, like the rest of the house, wasn’t very impressive. The son’s room was filled with little wooden toys, early education books, and a small bed. From this they could gather that Ove was no older than six or seven years old. The surprise came in Warden’s room. The father’s bed, a brown and white mess of sheets, wasn’t much bigger than the son’s bed. It was twin size at best. “This just isn’t assign up. Where is all of his money going? We need to find an address book of some sort. Feel free to open any cabinets. We’ve gathered all we can from sight alone.”

Vespasian glanced out of the window out of habit and saw something he wasn’t expecting. A few blocks in the distance three men clad in the city colors were making their way in haste. “We’ve got about three minutes.”

[Taskmienster]

Ethan sighed as his companion searched with his eyes, and not with his hands. If he was interested in looking for anything, it was not showing in his actions. He walked to the window and peered through its soft surface. The hacker saw the soft shoulders of the young man slouch before he heard the words he dreaded hearing. If guards were on their way, which is what he assumed V was seeing, then the time would be at best what was said.

“How about we start diggin’ in then?”

The hacker moved to a small desk facing the bed of almost equal size. He placed a hand on the chair behind it, sliding it gently. It creaked and groaned as it moved. The noise was unbearable, and Ethan did not have time for silence. In frustration he tossed the chair, his strength far stronger than he remembered. Effortlessly the furniture was thrown into a cabinet, shattering the small glass face and knocking it from the wall. He did not take time to look at the damage he caused, but instead focused on his primary target.

Drawers were pulled, shelves opened, and nothing of interest arrived to sight. Lars clenched his teeth as irritation about the advancing guards and nothing of interest quickly became irate frustration. He gripped two books, one in either hand. The small ledgers were meager notebooks, lightly bound, and nearly balled up.

“All I found are these fuckin’ notebooks. Looks like a bunch of numbers, but nothing about where the hell he went or why he left in such a hurry. Shit, this is stupid. I’m going to be caught looking for a man who isn’t at his house, because he took some kid that I don’t even know or care about.”

[The International]

Vespasian’s partner held up two books. He could tell the man was frustrated. Given the way he had gone about finding those two books, throwing things about and destroying the room, Vespasian thought it best to take them. “Any information is useful information.”

He opened them up and glanced at the contents. One was nothing but numbers, and the other was nothing but names. This was good. “By the way, the Empire wouldn’t waste so much money paying guards an hourly wage to watch one house, even if it is the unusually quaint home of one of their advisors. The Viceroys have plenty of advisors. They wouldn’t notice one of them missing. My point being, we aren’t going to get caught…”

Vespasian paused as he crossed his right hand over his left hip. Seconds later his blade rang like a symphonic triangle as he exposed it to the air. “We’re going to get killed. They’re going to barge in without announcing themselves, with their weapons drawn, and they’ll enter this room swinging.”

The door downstairs crashed open and three sets of footsteps moved through the first floor. The wooden floor panels did well to make their advent sound like a great quake as Vespasian could feel their vibrations through his boots. “You’re the security expert. What’s your recommendation?"

[Taskmienster]

The man before the hacker spun and removed a blade from his side, a tone following the ominous movement that sounded a mix of fear and concerned resignation. His words were lost to his companion though. Lars was already planning in advance; his mind was abuzz with strategies and means of escape. There was a window, clouded with the difference between the cool household and the humid air pushing against it. They could get away that way, but the possibility of guards waiting for them outside and surrounding the house was realistic and blocked the route. From the sound of it, there were only a few that were charging through the door. They had smashed it open, a frivolous use of strength when the door was already open.

“It’s the way of the brutish guards, I guess. Can’t do anything without proving that they’re a real man, with real muscles, and their pride should be recognized by the other men. Stupid kids and their dick measuring contests. The door was fucking unlocked!”

Ethan turned quickly to V, looking at him for a moment before letting the words ‘security expert’ really sink in. Was that why he had come? The warrior for the frightened thief? It seemed a fitting position, in his own mind, but what could the younger man have expected? Lars did not wear any visible weapons on display, had no armor for show or use, and was an exceptionally average build. Whatever had caused the assumed position of security expert, Lars took it easily.

“Not sure why I’ve become the ‘security expert’, as you so lightly put it, but we’ve got little to worry about. Just stand back little book thief, I’ll take care of these guys. They definitely know that there is someone here, but I don’t know if they know how many. Just go across the room from the door, get your dagger ready, and watch the fireworks.”

The room door was slammed shut before the footsteps started to reach the top of the stairs. Ethan backed up towards the near corner to the door, letting two daggers drop from his sleeves. The cool metal contradicted the sweating palms of the nonchalant looking man. He spun the handles to hold the daggers upright, then again to spin them back down. Seconds later a smash against the wooden, and unlocked, door caused it to splinter and the doorframe to pop loose free nails. The second smash sent the door inward, flying away from the man whose shoulder and momentum was causing him to stumble forwards.

“Don’t know your own strength there, tiny?” The brute of a man followed the door, and the hacker watched for a moment before letting lose his abilities. Before the door connected with the wall that it barely clung to by bent hinges, Lars stopped the threads of time. The pixilated world slowed, almost to a point where an afterimage of the bumbling watchman could be seen. A marvel the coding of the virtual reality game of Althanas was, and even more fun to warp its base codes in whatever way Lars felt inclined to do.

He moved as soon as the ‘spell’ took effect. His movements were swift, the body of the character moving at a hundred fifty percent of the normal person. It allowed Ethan to swiftly dispatch of the frozen man, a dagger piercing the base of his neck. The cold steel sliced through the spine and jolted out, no blood following in its static state. Instead of looking at the wound, Lars swung his opposite arm and sliced a clean line through the throat of the next man. The last was too far away to reach over the other two, and time was slipping by.

Ethan stepped back from the two, who were already dead but just had not realized it yet. The two seconds allowed by the stopped time was replaced by common time. The hacker let a bloodied dagger free, sending it to the wide-eyed third guard. He saw a spray of his comrade’s blood, saw the two fall, and followed them into the pile. A dagger jutted from his throat, his open mouth spitting up blood with the last remnants of air that escaped his lungs.

[The International]

Vespasian looked down at the bloody scene and slowly raised his focus back up to Cal. Amandine definitely delivered when she said she was bringing in protection. He was somewhat taken back by the slim, flamboyantly dressed, man's ability, but then again who was he to judge. Out of the five members of his spy family, his middle sister, Ludivine, was the cruelest and deadliest of them all despite her extremely small stature. Hell, Vespasian himself was a good example of big things coming in small packaged. His face, however, lacked the astonishment that he held inside for he was laying his eyes on something that no longer astonished him: oafish men laying dead on the ground. The world had to many of these guys, and killing them was like stomping on an ant. It was then that an epiphany hit him.

“You know in the heat of the moment I didn't realize something.” Vespasian said as he sheathed his blade. “I mean, we both knew these sorry excuses for gentlemen weren't the City Guard. But I didn't make any connection...”

His voice trailed off as he opened one of the subject's books. He was mentally multitasking, figuring out what the two of them had just stumbled upon while trying to determine their next step. This book was an address book. Having known most of the major roads and area codes of Radasanth, Vespasian began to make a mental note of who the Imperial Adviser considered important enough to remember. He could have been communicating with any of these people on a daily basis. The majority of the addresses were either in the center of town, where the Imperial Compound was. It was logical for that was Wardell's main place of business. Another group of addresses were around this area. They were obviously his neighbors. If this were daytime he'd question some of them on the character of the missing man. There was one address, however, that was an extreme outlier from the others. It was in an area north of the Citadel, in an area popularly referred to as the Vice District, a brothel named Mother Bertha's Manor. He snapped back to reality... It must have been a moment or two since he had last spoken.

“Where was I?” He said as he looked up. “Oh yea. An unfinished meal, an unlocked door, and a cleared out bedroom all suggest that Chance was running from someone, and we can bet he's still alive because whoever employs these guys would have called them off. By the way, we've got our next destination. How much cash do you have on you?”

[Taskmienster]

The hacker collected his bloodied dagger from the man’s throat, wiping it clean on the fallen man’s soaked shirt. The majority of the mess was freed from the cold steel blade, leaving only a dull red stain across it. He flicked his thumb over the edge, noting the wear that he had built up over time. It was getting close to either sharpening the weapons or replacing them. A trip to the bazaar was already planned for the miscreant. There were other items of interest, the least of which were his replaced daggers, but the time for that would be at a much later date.

Lars turned to the younger man and his toothpick sword as he put it away. He was rambling, his words were clear enough, but none of them made sense. The men that had charged through the door, they weren’t city guards? He looked at the men and closely inspected their choice of clothing. The haphazard armor was carefully aligned much like protectors of the capital, but there was no insignia for their ranks or for their allegiance. If Vespasian thought that Ethan had realized the mistake as quickly as he had, the spy was sorely overestimating the intuitional capabilities of his companion.

“I have a good bit, but why do you need my money? Where are we going? And if these men aren’t part of the city guard, then who exactly are they and why haven’t the guard come? I’d assume that the watch would have been alerted by a neighbor because of the break-in, either by us or by these idiots. Plus, there’s probably more of ‘em waiting outside. Otherwise I would have just said to go out the window instead of fighting.”

He tucked his daggers back up his sleeves, and lightly poked at the closest dead man with his foot. The lump corpse shifted a bit before falling back in place, remaining first down in his puddle of blood. Althanas was a wicked place, filled with NPC’s that offered endless combative adventuring; sometimes the server gave people that were like the dead before the hacker. Men and at times women were created by the world to offer up an adrenaline jump for those “just” individuals in the game, at other times the circumstantial changes made the people playing the “unjust”. Either way, unavoidable conflict seemed to rear its head more often then not.

[The International]

“Well I'm not sure who sent these things,” By things he meant the fake guard. “But as for the real City Guard, I'm sure someone in the neighborhood has sent for them by now. We probably have ten to fifteen minutes, and don't you think if these guys had back up they'd be present? Anyways I was wondering if you had any cash on you because we're headed to a place where you may need it. We're going to a brothel Wardell frequents. If he's grown attached to one of the call girls there, she's going to know something about him no one else does.”

About half an hour latter the unlikely duo was in the Vice District. This side of town was the polar opposite of all others. Radasanth wasn't the Dark Elf dominated Ettermire. The Humans of Corone had a circadian rhythm that forced them to sacrifice almost a third of every day to sleep, and although they didn't like to admit it, Radasanth did sleep. The Vice District simply slept during the day, and was most active during the night. The shady characters roaming the black lit streets here took heed to their more primal habits, for things still went bump in the night and they wanted to be around to see them. Vespasian and Cal moved through the district's main corridor with an unflinching strut, but internally the spy's mind was bouncing from one corner to another like a pinball.

There were Elvin prostitutes roaming in a pack to their left, a Haidian Demon with a suspicious look to his right, and a Human gangster with a duffel bag containing god knows what in the distance. A strange mix of moist sex and dry drugs was in the air. One could clearly be distinguished from the other as if each smell reserved its place in one of Vespasian's nostrils. This was the melting pot Radasanthians were so proud of. He'd be proud of it too.

Mother Bertha's Manor was ironically a real manor, albeit just large enough to qualify as one. It stood in the center of a full acre of land whereas the rest of the Vice District's businesses were compact rented out complexes and refurbished townhouses. It was at the northernmost limit of the district. Beyond it was the wealthiest residential area in town, which was perfect for business. The front double doors were large and ornate, and the servant opened it up to a plush atrium of crimson furniture, a marble floor, and walls adorned with art. Every woman was dressed to accentuate her greatest attributes, but in a conservative fashion. If they had been roaming the streets no one would be able to distinguish these women from any other save from a low top here and a slit skirt there. What gave them away was their choice of heavy make up. Some almost looked like they had masks on.

“Welcome to my manor, gentlemen.” A tall woman with a gray streak in her otherwise obsidian hair approached with open arms. Mother Bertha was the most conservative of them all, with a high end ballgown draping over her body. “I don't know you. Is this your first time here?”

“Yes it is. We've come by referral.” Vespasian said as he bowed to the Mother, who curtsied back. “One Wardell Chance recommends you. I know he has a favorite. I just can't remember her name.”

“Ah.” She said with a smile as she turned to the spiral staircase behind her and gave two claps that echoed throughout the vast chamber. “Ruby!”

Wardell Chance's favorite call girl made her way down the staircase in a slow rehearsed catwalk as she ran one hand through her auburn hair and another to traced her petite body. Her emerald dress was low cut to show off her cleavage, and her skirt was hiked up at the front to show off her muscular thighs. Her golden high heel shoes made a clicking sound as they made contact with the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Despite all of this, Ruby's greatest attribute was her bright hazel eyes as they contrasted with her rosy skin, which was free of all makeup. Vespasian could see why Wardell liked this one, although he had no intentions on sleeping with her himself.

“So which one of you will she be starting with?” Mother Bertha said using a popular sales tactic. She just assumed both Vespasian and his cohort would be spending money. “You, you? Both of you at the same time.”

“Woah. Hey. Hell no.” Vespasian said with his hands in the air. He had to stop her right there. “It'll just be me this time, Mother Bertha, and it wont be for long. Thirty minutes at best. If Cal here wants to enjoy himself with another lady here he's more than welcome to, but I fly solo once I go up those steps.”

“So be it. Have a good time with Ruby. Now as for you,” Bertha set her predatory gaze on Cal, as Vespasian and Ruby climbed the staricase. “Who will we be coupling you with tonight?”

[Taskmienster]

Ethan tucked his hands into the pockets of his faux-leather jacket, turning his neck this way and that while the thin strands of fake fur tickled his neck. From fighting guards, which were in the long run not guards, to traveling to a brothel, there was simply nothing to keep him occupied. He had spent the better part of the ‘mission’ that had been requested of him doing little more than listening to some kid prattle on about anything and everything. It was like being the side-kick to some lackluster hero, and Lars did not like it. He watched as V followed the young woman up the stairs before turning to the buxom keeper of the mansion.

“No offense doll, these girls are all worth the time of others, but I don’t do sloppy seconds like he might. Whores are not my style.” Lars turned away from the blushing woman and removed himself from the premises, undoubtedly followed by angry patronages that would either act as bouncers or attempt to regain their sundered honor. It wasn’t their honor alone that had been soiled in that place though, and Ethan wanted nothing to do with them either.

“Enough murder mysteries built on perfectly aligned coincidences,” he muttered as he fished a cigarette from his pocket and lit the tip. The smoke calmed him, made him feel less on edge about the wasted time on the server for the better part of a day. “Of course in the end, whatever happens V will find what he’s looking for, won’t die in the process, and everything will be grand in the end. That’s the way Althanas is, because being the perfect specimen of your selected cause, race, and creed is what every gamer wants in the end. It’s all so… perfect, and boring.”

Lars tapped the cig and let the ash fall, watching as it caught the murky water of a pixilated puddle. Althanas was for those that wanted something they couldn’t have in the real world, for Ethan, that was adventure, strife, and a challenge. He walked away from the mission, off to find something else to do.

((As I said in the PM, I’m dropping this quest. It really is bland, and I can’t find any reason to continue other than because I started… and when that happens, I know it’s time to do something else. Figured I’d write myself out instead of just drop, because that at least makes me feel like I did it the right way…))

[The International]

Ruby’s chamber was ironically nothing close to ruby. The golden drapes and the brown bed sheets complimented the Akashiman redwood furniture and floors, and together they created an earthen theme that literally warmed Vespasian’s bones. These girls knew what they were doing. They were using a mental phenomenon present in all intelligent beings called Synesthesia - in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway led to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. Vespasian’s oldest sister, Maelle, used it to her advantage quite often, and this prostitute was using it to make Vespasian feel comfortable. Brown was a warm color, and Vespasian certainly wasn’t going to get naked if he was cold.

“So, good Sir, tell me about yourself.” Ruby said as she softly closed the oak door behind her. She turned to the spy with a genuine smile on her face. Just then Vespasian could tell that this woman was a good salesman. It was going to be difficult for him to get out of there without actually sealing the deal, but he had to. Time was of the essence.

“My friends call me V. Just V.” Vespasian said casually as he sat on the bed. Ruby approached and embraced him, allowing his nose to play a game of connect the dots with the freckles along her cleavage. He could almost taste the spicy cinnamon scent that tickled his nose. This was tempting, but he had to get on with his mission. “Wardell didn’t tell you about me? I’m a colleague from the Palace.”

“I’m afraid not.” The woman of the night led him to lay back onto the plush bed with a gentle authority rarely experienced. He found himself submitting to the command with little thought, and now, within the confines of a surprisingly strong straddle, Ruby was able to slowly and sensuously gyrated her center and stimulate Vespasian in the most carnal of ways. “And he tells me a lot.”

“You know… Ooh.” Vespasian had to concentrate, but the blood he needed to think was no longer in his brain. Strangely they weren’t even undressed yet. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, a few weeks at least. When did you last see him?”

“It’s been a few weeks for me too. I find it difficult to compete with his love of art. Hopefully he’ll contact me for an outcall.” Ruby's mouth met with Vespasian's in a soft but aggressive kiss. It was only after she came up for air that Vespasian was able to taste the mint in the back of his mouth. “I love his little studio apartment. It has a perfect view of the Citadel and the Bazaar.”

Perfect. Now he needed an out. He waited until another passionate kiss to bail. “You know, I can't really get in the mood without a glass of champagne.” Vespasian rolled over softly placing Ruby to the side. “How about I go get us some?”

“Can I ask you a question, V, since I'll probably never see you again?” Vespasian paused as he opened the door, but he chose not to look back. “Did I just send Wardell to his deathbed?”

“Honestly...” Vespasian stepped across the threshold. “I don't know.”